Alone
by metaphoricheart
Summary: There are two different definitions of alone for Edmund.


The light was beginning to fail, and the autumn air felt nice through Edmund's jacket. Breathing in deeply, he sighed, fighting the urge to spread out his arms and throw his face to the sky. No more classes for the day, and tomorrow was Saturday. Homework could wait a night for once.

He slipped into the almost alley formed by the two school buildings coming together, and sat on the grass behind the stairs. Sighing happily he pulled his notebook out of his back pocket, and began finishing the story he had been working.

88

Peter watched as Edmund pushed himself from the dinner table quickly, his face brooding and angry. Running his hands through his hair, and chanced a glance at his mother. He soon wished he hadn't, it seemed as if the weight of the world was in her eyes.

They heard the backdoor slam.

Peter looked up from his book as their bedroom door opened, and a slightly calmer looking Edmund stepped in.

Peter never understood why Edmund hid. Edmund seemed to like being alone. It seemed to help him.

"Better?"

Edmund grunted in response.

No, Peter did not understand Edmund's need to be alone.

Peter did not like to be alone.

And that was just the beginning of their differences.

88

"You think you're dad, but you're not!"

Susan rounded on Peter with a frustrated look in her eyes, while Edmund's angry footsteps faded down the hallway.

"Well done," she shot to Peter, and swiftly left the room in search of Edmund.

She looked high and low for the better part of an hour before giving up. He'd made himself scarce on purpose, and walking back to their room, she supposed she should respect it.

Edmund emerged several hours later, his eyes slightly red, no calmness in them. Nothing could help this time.

88

There was no light glinting off the ice. No trace of hope. Nothing. Edmund wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm, but more in attempt to keep himself from falling apart.

For the first time in his life he didn't want to be alone. He was afraid.

For the first time in his life he wouldn't have minded if a hundred people appeared around him and tried to make small talk with him.

For the first time in a while, he wanted Peter to hold him again like when he was small.

88

He looked up through his eyelashes at them, barely noticing that Aslan had left his side. "Hello," he said quietly. Chancing a look but only got as far as their stomach's and looked back down.

Edmund felt arms wrap around him. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling, yet feeling as if he didn't deserve it. Then they left him, replaced by longer ones.

"Are you alright?" She asked gently in his ear.

Was he? He didn't know. He didn't know much of anything anymore.

"I'm just tired."

He gathered his strength to look at Peter, the only one who hadn't reacted to him yet. He soon wished he hadn't. There was an unreadable look there, and it made him uneasy.

"Get some sleep."

Edmund looked back down, feeling slightly stung. _You deserve it, _he reminded himself.

"And..try not to wonder off." There was light, attempt at being playful. Edmund smiled slightly, but it hurt his lip. He walked over the tent Peter indicated.

Alone again.

Alone in more ways than one.

88

"Ed?"

Peter stepped through the tent; Edmund hastily pulled down his shirt. He whirled around. Peter's face was stark white. Apparently he hadn't pulled down his shirt fast enough.

"Take it off," Peter whispered, horrified.

"It's um..it's…"

"Off."

Edmund complied, trying to repress a wince, as he raised his now tattered shirt over his head.

Peter forgot how to breathe for a moment. Slowly he moved forward, and began lightly trashing each thrash mark, bruise, and cut on Edmund's back.

"She hurt you," Peter said lowly, in a broken voice.

Edmund nodded, trying to force the tears that had welled up in his eyes, back into their ducts. Peter picked up a tunic from a table by Edmund's bed. He lifted Edmund's arms up, and started to gently pull the tunic over Edmund's bruised torso. The tears spilled over as Peter threaded in arms through the arm holes, taking care not to let the fabric brush against his cuts.

Peter reached up and brushed them away with his thumbs, as his own tears began to silently fall. Edmund stared at them for a moment in shock, but then hesitantly reached up and clumsily brushed away Peter's on tears.

Peter closed his eyes at the touch, and grabbed Edmund's wrist as he brought it down. Pulling him as gently as possible towards him, Peter enveloped Edmund into a soft hug.

Edmund knew he wouldn't be alone anymore.

Maybe he never was.

88

Peter shook his head with a small smile, watching Edmund's dark head retreat to his hiding spot. As he walked to his study he remembered the day he found Edmund's hiding spot, of course Edmund didn't know that…

_Peter furrowed his brow as he saw his little brother's red tunic, quickly disappearing down the hall after dinner. While Edmund was usually the quietest at the table, he usually contributed to at least some of the conversation, but tonight he had been silent. Worried, Peter stealthily followed Edmund through many winding hallways, until they were outside in the warm night. Edmund continued to walk until he was well within the depths of the gardens, and threw himself down on the bench in the middle. Peter didn't even know that such a place existed. Of course he had visited the gardens, but never truly had a chance to explore them._

_Staying out of Edmund's line of vision, Peter watched Edmund for quite some time. The longer Edmund lay stretched out on that stone bench, the more relaxed his expression became. Whatever stress or sadness that had been in Edmund's eyes, keeping him quiet at dinner, was pushed to the back. After a while Edmund pulled a notebook and quill out from the folds of his tunic, flipped over onto his stomach, and began to write._

_Peter watched as Edmund's faced became engrossed into whatever he was writing in there, his eyes far away._

_Finally tearing his eyes away from his brother, Peter walked back to the castle._

He understood now.

88

As soon as the ambassadors were swept out of the court room by the guard, Edmund dropped his face into his hand, unaware of his older brother's scrutinizing gaze.

In short, Edmund was looking worse for wear. Peter sighed, as he watched Edmund begin massaging his temples. He hated when Edmund was like this.

Edmund pushed himself from the high table, and slid through the side door that led out into the gardens. Peter got up to follow him. _Just because you're 17, doesn't mean you have to do everything by yourself, even if you think you do, _Peter thought bitterly as he stomped through the garden to Edmund's hiding spot.

As soon as he reached the clearing Peter forced himself to calm down. Being an angry, overbearing, and over protective older brother would only push Edmund further into shut down mode.

He stepped into the clearing, and sat down on the bench beside Edmund. Edmund blinked at him in surprise.

"How did you find me?"

"I've known about your little hiding spot here for a while, Ed. I've just never felt the need to bother you while you're here until now," Peter replied evenly.

Edmund nodded, and went back to staring at the hedges in front of him.

Peter sighed. "I wish you wouldn't do this, Ed."

"Do what?" Edmund asked sharply.

"Shut yourself out from me, well from everyone, but especially me." 

"Who says I'm shutting myself out?"

"Me. Something or possibly _some things _are bothering you," Peter said.

Edmund didn't say anything, but began to chew on his bottom lip. He felt Peter's eyes boring into the side of his head.

"You need to stop doing that with your lip. You're going to make it bleed for the fifth time today," Peter chided.

Edmund released his lip, and instead started drumming his fingers on this thigh. Peter sighed at his brother's anxiety, as they lapsed back into silence. Edmund flopped down with his back on the bench, his knees bent and lightly touching Peter's arm. He went back to biting his lip, and as predicted, he made it bleed again.

Edmund brought his lip inward and sucked the blood away. Peter broke the silence.

"You know, I don't think that the older we get the less we need someone. Actually, the older we get the more we need someone. You think about that." Peter patted Edmund's raised knees, and disappeared back to the castle.

That night there was a knock on Peter's door. And Edmund learned that no matter what it was, he didn't have to be alone.


End file.
